Q&A with R.J. Palacio

I took my kids to visit a friend of mine who lives out of town, and at some point during the day we found ourselves sitting next to a little girl who looked the way Auggie looks in the book. We were in front of an ice cream shop, and she was sitting next to us with her mother and a friend. My younger son was only about 3 at the time, and he reacted exactly the way you might think a 3-year-old would react when seeing something that scared him: He started to cry—pretty loudly, too. And though my older son, who was 10 at the time, knew better than to stare, his expression said it all despite his best efforts: He looked like someone had just punched him. It was terrible, on all counts, and I got up as quickly as I could to remove us from the scene—not for their sakes, of course, but to spare the little’s girl’s feelings. As I pushed my younger son’s stroller away I heard the little girl’s mom say, in as sweet and calm a voice as you can imagine: “OK, guys, I think it’s time to go.” And that just got to me.

On the drive home I couldn’t stop thinking about how that scene had played out. It occurred to me that they probably went through something like that dozens of times a day. Hundreds of times. What would that be like? What could I be teaching my children so they could understand how to respond better next time? Is “don’t stare” even the right thing to teach, or is there something deeper? All this stuff was flying through my head on the long car ride home while my boys slept in the backseat of the car. I was literally obsessing about it, so after a while I turned on the radio just to keep myself from thinking about it and the first thing that started to play was Natalie Merchant’s "Wonder." It was so amazing because that song had always been one of my absolute favorites—but that night the words really hit me, almost like I was hearing them for the first time. "People see me—I’m a challenge to your balance. I’m over your heads, how I confound you and astound you, to know I must be one of the wonders of god’s own creation…" It was like the song had been written for this girl I had just seen.

The book kind of wrote itself in my head on that drive home. I would write the story from the child’s point of view. It would help people understand—not pity. I’m just like you, the child would say. I’m an ordinary kid—except for this one thing. And I would call the book Wonder because this child is a wonder.

I wish I could say I would have been Summer or even Jack, but unfortunately, I don’t think I was that good. If a kid like Auggie had come into my class when I was in the fifth grade, I think I would have been most like Charlotte: nice enough, never mean, but never really extending myself, either. Or I might have been a bit like Amos. I would have defended the underdog, but it would have taken some kind of drama to get me there. In terms of character and temperament, I think Via is very much like I was at 15.

More to Explore

Why do you think the author chose not to describe Auggie’s face until very late in the book? How was it different or similar to how you saw Auggie?

Auggie’s family plays a big role in his life. How does his relationship differ with each member of the family? How do they see him?

How do the book's multiple viewpoints affect your reading of the book? Is there a character you wish you could have “heard” from?

We welcome your respectful and on-topic comments and questions in this limited public forum. To find out more, please see Appropriate Use When Posting Content. Community-contributed content represents the views of the user, not those of Chicago Public Library